


Temptation and Whiskey: An Excerpt

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Castiel, Drinking, Dry Humping, First Time, M/M, Top Dean, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had a feeling they should be moving on. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of top-shelf whiskey and flashed Cas another smile.<br/>"I'm sure the bar owner would want it this way," he said cocking a brow.<br/>Cas grabbed a couple glasses off the shelf beside him and motioned for the bottle. Cracking the top, he poured a fat double in both, buttering the clear crystal in a warm brown.<br/>"Oh, party on, Garth," Dean laughed.<br/>"It's the end of the world... again," Cas shrugged. "Might as well have a double."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation and Whiskey: An Excerpt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scene I wrote for a larger fic I'm currently working on. Unfortunately, I think this scene's getting cut from the larger piece because I just can't quite get it to fit the way I want. I figured I'd post it anyway just because I really liked how it turned out. Guys, let me know what you think? You wanna read more?
> 
> I mean, basically, what I'm saying is, it's been quiet over here posting-wise, but I am working on things, I swear!

Dean watched Cas from across the room. The way he poured himself a drink, tasted it, conceded to the bite of whiskey with a dignified grimace. Cas caught his eye, held the bottle up. “More?”

Dean swallowed. His heart was so loud in his ears he wasn’t sure Cas had said anything at all, but he walked over just the same, tipped the bottle’s mouth over Dean’s open glass, and topped it off.

_Fill me up,_ Dean thought and immediately shook it out of his head horrified.

“This is the real reason we’re held up in a bar,” Cas continued with a smile. Dean smiled back and bit his lips. He tried to think of something to say, but he was afraid to open his mouth.

His eyes slipped easily up and down Cas’ body as he moved back to the bar, set the fifth on the polished wood top, hooked a leg over a stool, and took another drink. Dean watched as his tongue licked out, snatched a linger of it off his lip.

_Fuck,_ he thought, and he wanted a taste. Yeah, he had the same whiskey in his cup. But, he wanted to drink it from Cas’ lips. He wanted to taste it on his tongue and smell it on his breath.

_God, how many have I had?_ He looked down, tried to remember. He didn’t feel drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. 

What he was, was fucking horny. How long had it been? He wasn’t sure. He only knew Cas was hitting all the right notes.

“What’s wrong?”

And Dean knew he was staring. He cleared his throat, took a long drink. A little too long. He found the bottom of the cup. “It’s all good,” he said, trying for nonchalant. 

The shadows of the setting sun danced in the corners, refracted gems of light off the hanging glasses.

Dean was hard.

Full on, ready to go. 

_Fucking fuck,_ he thought. He hit the bar, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and filled his cup again. _I’ve never needed or wanted whiskey dick so bad, and, dear god, not the kind with the never-ending hard-on. The kind where you just can’t get it up._

Castiel watched him. “Do you want to grab a couple bottles to take with?”

“ Yeah, sure,” Dean said. Because that was it. He just really liked the whiskey. He missed the whiskey and needed the whiskey in his mouth. Life was just better with the whiskey.

Cas leaned into him pointing toward the glass shelves. He was close enough that Dean could feel his heat, and his dick throbbed. “I see a couple in the back,” Cas said quietly, then turning with a playful frown, “what is the matter with you? You look like a cornered animal.” 

Then, he bit his lip.

Fuck all if he wasn't flirting.

It was too much.

Dean lunged forward, knocked over the glass bottle, spilled it, and kissed Cas hard. He was goddamn surprised when Cas went with it. He was sure the guy would have pulled back, would have stopped him, but no, he was off his bar stool before Dean had both hands on him. Dean grabbed him, pushed him up against the wall, licked the taste of liquor off his lips. Dean’s heart jumped into his throat as he pulled at Cas’ hips, brought them flush with his body. His mind raced. It was Cas. It was all Cas. He wanted to feel the clammy sweat on his skin. The rough whiskers on his chin. --He ran his hands over his face, pulled him in, tasted that crisp smoothness on his tongue. He gasped and Cas groaned in return. Their bodies rolled together. Dean’s hands moved down his body desperately. Pulled at his belt. Reached under his shirt, just trying to find skin, feel skin. His hands took hold at Cas’ sides as he pulled him in, pushed him up against the wall. Fit between his legs.

_What the fuck are you doing?_ His brain screamed at him, but his body was too amped. He gasped again. Cas’ quiet grunts as Dean arched into him lit Dean’s face red hot. His pulse thrummed in his ears, his blood volleyed through his temples. He rubbed against him, ground himself against Cas. Felt the bulge in his pants rash along Dean’s own.

_What the LIVING FUCK ARE YOU DOING?_ He screamed at himself, but it only made him feel more desperate. So fucking desperate. He whined. Cas’ name escaped him, and he choked the fright that trailed it. Cas twisted, kissed along Dean’s jaw as Dean bucked against him. His skin was hot, his face flushed red. His hair a wiry mess.

_Fuck!_ Dean wanted to touch it. _He had to_. He moved both hands from Cas’ waist, threaded them through his hair, breathed in the smell of dirt and sweat on his skin as he memorized the full, wet hunger of his lips. “Oh, god,” Dean muttered as Cas’ hands pulled at the front of Dean’s shirt, Pulling him in, helping the friction at their waists.

And suddenly Dean came. The pleasure washed over him violent and quick, he whimpered into the side of Castiel’s face. Soaked in the temperance Cas’ soft lips created as they brushed along Dean’s neck, bobbing with their paired movement. 

“Dean.” Cas whispered his name. It came out a fine, breathy gravel. A voice Dean had heard thousands of times was suddenly so different. So taken aback. So floored. Enraptured.

And that’s when shame hit him, reality rushing back. His libido spent, there was only that voice and the uncomfortable, sticky wetness in his jeans. Cas’ sweat on him. Dean’s breath caught. He bit the insides of his cheeks and struggled back uncomfortably. Though Cas didn’t let go his handfuls of Dean’s shirt. Dean felt the burn of Cas’ eyes on his face and he suddenly couldn’t look at him. His mouth felt dry. The lingering sting on his lips was the punctuation on another of Dean Winchester’s horrible mistakes.

_What the fuck did you just do?_ his brain screamed again and tears burned in his eyes. _You ruined it. You fucking ruined it. What is your problem? You’re just going to keep fucking with him. Keep messing with his mind. Toying with him. Destroying him in every goddamn way. What did you do? What’s he supposed to do with this? He doesn’t deserve this... this fucking train wreck. He’s only ever--_

“\--Hey, Dean.” Cas grabbed Dean, pulled his chin up. His blue eyes played over Dean’s face, fiercely trying to read it. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re okay.”

The sadness welled in Dean’s throat and tears broke. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he choked. He staggered back, but Cas caught him, gripped his dirty black T-shirt, pulled him in again. 

“No,” he said. “It’s okay.” He rubbed both thumbs over Dean’s cheeks, taking a chance at letting his hold go. He wiped away the tears. “It’s good.” His voice was like milk. So smooth and sweet. His eyes bright, even in the shadows. Dean felt so exposed having them pointed at him. He saw the tears at the corners of them and it crushed him. 

He tried to say he was sorry again but Cas kissed the words from his lips, pulled him in and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” he said. “Please, don’t be sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry.”

Dean pulled away. Shook Cas’ arms off. He looked everywhere but at Cas. If he read the desperation in his face, he’d know he’d done it. Just what he was trying to avoid. He’d ruined him. He wanted so badly to go back to him. Kiss him again. Feel their bodies pressed together like they’d always belonged that way, but…

“It’s bad, Cas,” he said to the floor. “It’s not gonna work. It’s a bad time.”

“When’s it ever a good time?” Cas challenged, his voice lowering again, finding its usual deep, methodical cadence, the pleasure suddenly sucked out of him. “Tell me, when are you ever going to let yourself be in a good place?”

Dean rubbed both hands over his face. He couldn’t think straight. He backed away. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again and left. He felt Cas’ eyes on his back. Felt the disappointment hanging thick in the air but, fuck if his feet wouldn’t stop.

_Run away, Dean. Just keep running away. You find something you want and you’d better run from it before you kill it._

  
  
  



End file.
